


Shared Culture

by GreyLiliy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Courtship, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:08:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22855240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: Tarn brings Pharma a gift: A Poetry Collection.
Relationships: Pharma/Tarn
Kudos: 19





	Shared Culture

**Author's Note:**

> [First posted to Tumblr on October 22, 2013 as “TF - Shared Culture.” Crossposted to Archive of Our Own on February 22, 2020. Original Notes have been kept.]
> 
> Still thinking over a few of those prompts folks suggested for Tarn & Pharma. I sort of want to do the Jealous!Tarn one, but I’m trying to figure out how to make it work without it getting out of hand on me. XD;;
> 
> So we’ll go with Space-Husband’s [On Tumblr] “Tarn gives Pharma a gift” suggestion. :D
> 
> I’m also a tad obsessed with Tarn being a fan of poetry because Megatron was a fan of poetry. That cultured darling.

“You got me a poetry collection,” Pharma said, staring at the data-pad in his hands. It was black with a decorative grey trim, and was pre-loaded with about a year’s worth of reading. Pharma looked at the back, and raised his eyebrow at a small scratched area where it looked like a brand had been removed. Pharma looked down the table of contents again. “A good deal of which appear to be written by Megatron.”

“While I have already assumed that you’ll be skipping those on principal, I can assure you that all of Megatron’s work is worthy of publication if you care to be adventurous,” Tarn said, tapping the top of the pad. He held his shoulders back in a bit of pride on behalf of his lunatic leader. “The caste system left him completely unnoticed.”

“And the rest?”

“A few of his and my favorite selections from a few more prominent authors,” Tarn said. He rolled his finger in the air. “Most of which are dead, terrified neutrals, or one of a handful of living Autobots. I figured you may enjoy the ones from that last group the most.”

“I could have sworn I was here to fix a misaligned rotor in your back,” Pharma said, thinking back on the hour prior to Tarn calling after him to wait for a moment. Pharma tapped his pinky finger on the bottom of the pad. “Why are you giving me this again?”

“I thought you might appreciate it,” Tarn said, huffing. He shrugged, and lowered his voice the way he did when he was trying to seduce Pharma into the berth–not that it ever worked. He always had to pull out the ‘Do it or die’ card, so Pharma was unsure why he wasn’t just using that same method of forced cooperation now. Instead, Tarn suggested, “Must our relationship be strictly professional?”

“Yes,” Pharma answered, leaving no room for negotiation. “It should be.”

Tarn’s optics brightened and he huffed. Pharma threw his hands up and collapsed into a chair behind him. He rubbed his thumb in a circle over his left optic. He turned it off, and set the poetry data-pad in his lap. “This deal of ours is already overly complicated, if you ask me.”

“Well, all in the same,” Tarn threw his hand in the air. His shoulders shifted, but Pharma could practically hear the tension from across the room. Tarn continued, “It’s yours to keep. Peruse it if you’re bored.”

Pharma glanced at the pad, and back to Tarn. His plating twitched, and he shifted from one leg to another. Pharma’s mouth split into a delicious smirk. Tarn was _nervous_. He flipped the pad up and clicked the screen on. “You really want me to read this.”

“As I said, I think you would take some pleasure from it,” Tarn said, waving his hand in a circle. His posture shifted, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Pharma crossed one leg over the other and slid into a half slouch. He nearly bit the edge of his finger. Tarn was downright _flustered_. This was too good. Tarn motioned at the pad. “Surely you get bored up at Delphi with only the crazy nurse and Number 234 for company.”

“But poetry?” Pharma asked, smiling.

Tarn narrowed his eyes behind the mask and shook his head. Even Tarn knew when Pharma was playing him. The tank let out a huff of air, and spread his arms out. “Fine, you want the truth? You can have it:

“Kaon doesn’t understand it, Vos won’t touch a thing unless it’s written in Primal Vernacular, and I’m beginning to suspect that Tesarus and Helex don’t know how to read, let alone grasp the symbolism and themes of the complex written word,” Tarn said. “You, on the other hand, I am fairly certain can understand the material.”

“Yes,” Pharma said. He wasn’t planning on telling Tarn, but he’d read more than a few of these prior to the war. Pharma clicked through titles looking for anything or any authors that he recognized. “But what does that have to do with you.”

Tarn sat across from him, body hitting the chair heavily enough that the legs screeched along the floor. “Academic discussion and debate over the reading.”

“I see,” Pharma said, slowly. He licked the side of his lip. “And what makes you think I shall provide that?”

“I don’t know,” Tarn said. He leaned back in the chair, looking defeated. Pharma wished he had a camera. Tarn threw a hand up in the air in defeat, slamming it back down on the arm rest. “I suppose you’re witnessing the mighty Tarn in a sprawl of desperation for intelligent company. The last person I ran into who could grasp even the basest meaning of the simplest of pieces was Number 120 on The List. I had to snuff out one of my few chances to talk about the word choices in Megatron’s sixth ode.”

“If I do this,” Pharma said. He flipped the pad in a circle, balancing it between his index fingers and thumbs. “What’s in it for me?”

“Forgive me for thinking you too may crave a bit of culture once in a while when surrounded by plebeians,” Tarn sighed. He rubbed his shoulder just above where Pharma had worked re-setting a rotor joint, and leaned heavily in his chair. “Read it or not, could you at least humor me and take it with you? That can’t possibly be too much to ask.”

“I think I can do that at least,” Pharma said. He considered the item in his hands, and glanced at Tarn out of the corner of his optic. “It is a lovely data-pad.”

Tarn growled, and Pharma chuckled in reply. It seems he was getting close to the edge of Tarn’s patience.

Pharma slid the data-pad under his arm as he abandoned his chair and headed for the front door. “Well, how about this. If someone can control his bad habit and doesn’t need a new T-Cog next week, than perhaps we can spend your designated operating time discussing the stylistic differences between Oceanglide and Lugnutz during their more competitive stage.”

Tarn stared for a full moment as if he’d never seen Pharma before, and then he laughed. It was a hearty sound, that lifted Pharma’s spark against his own will. The doctor prayed to Primus it was Tarn’s modifications manipulating the emotion, and not his own joy at the sound.

The Division leader, shook his head and tilted his head at Pharma. The affection dripped from his optics, even through the tiny holes of the mask. He said, “I knew it.”

Pharma ignored the urge to turn the data-pad back on.


End file.
